


30 days OTP challenge (NSFW version)

by Kancrab



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward Sex, M/M, Not all in that order, Nudity, Sloppy Makeouts, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:19:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4901821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kancrab/pseuds/Kancrab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've taken up the challenge of writing an NSFW-centered drabble for the next thirty days. The challenge can be found here, if interested: http://curryuku.tumblr.com/post/31830620843/30-days-otp-challenge-nsfwversion . Tags will be added as I progress and warnings/notes will be stated at the very beginning of every chapter. Length of each story will vary; it all depends on how the words feel like flowing!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Naked Cuddles (DualSign)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is the very first chapter I actually wrote way back (approximately eleven months ago), so if there's a change in style, my apologies. I don't really like how it reads, personally, so I may or may not rewrite it later. If you have any comments, critique, or suggestions, I implore you to get in contact with me! Be it a comment or a message to my Tumblr, I will appreciate it greatly. My Tumblr is: kanny-the-kanned-crab.tumblr.com Again. Feel free to shoot me a message! And, one last thing before you read on, there are no set pairings for the future chapters. So, if you've a ship you'd like me to write, send it my way! ))

The moons’ rays, usually such a welcome greeting, shined brightly through the parted curtains and right into his eyes. One would think that, after so many sweeps, he would manage to figure out where he could rest without having the sly bastard of lighting catch his vision at just the right angle.

Oh.

But he had, actually.

However, due to a certain obstructive body that was currently pressed again his own person, shifting just a little to the left was about as likely of happening as the troll in question’s rebellion becoming a real success; that was to say, it was pretty much impossible. Then again…Kankri, formally referred to as the Signless, was a pretty sight to be held in these early hours. Curled up on his side, the Vantas’ breaths were deep, soft, lips quirked upward in a rather vague smile. Untidy, dark hair was fanned out against the violet covers. Though he was considerably small when compared to the Highblood’s own person, the little lad had the strangest talent of taking up all of the bed, as well as somehow managing to tangle himself in all the covers. The latter, to be honest, was rather sad when considering how lovely it was to watch his currently naked partner shift and sigh while sleeping. Yet, attempting to untangle the mutant from the blankets was…Not likely. So, with a slight sigh, Orphaeus Dualscar nestled closer to the warm body, an arm curling around the other’s middle. Absentmindedly, rough digits traced the outlines of vestigial grub scars, a slight smile claiming his scarred features at his lover’s unconscious shudder.

Really, it was nearly unfair the very extent of cute this fellow could reach.

However, within the next hour or so, they would have to part ways. Duty happened to have an early call no matter what one’s role was. Whether a captain of the most prestigious ship and qualified crew or merely a tiny rebellion leader of sorts, there was work to be done. So, drawing himself closer to Kankri, he keeps the Vantas close, relishing the comparative heat the other practically radiated as he slowly drifted off once more.


	2. Naked Kiss (Gamkar)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing soothes the soul like a little bit of flushed Gamkar.

Hands ran along the dip of his spine, razor-like teeth brushing along the troll’s collarbone. White paint smeared along flushed flesh, an occurrence Karkat noted with a muffled hiss. His own hands were venturing over the Makara’s lanky form. Claws traced over the angular planes of the Juggalo’s figure, followed a few spatterings of scars, before resting on the other’s hip. The other set of digits were entangled tightly in the exceptional mop of curls the Subjuggulator had, whether the motion was intentional or not, he couldn’t be sure. He liked it anyways. With every nip at Karkat’s neck, the mutant would tug back on his head, a disapproving growl sounding shortly thereafter. A guttural snickered at that little sound. It wasn’t intimidating, not in the slightest. Several sweeps among his beloved brothers and sisters rattled out any thought about that noise ever striking an aggressive chord. Sure, li’l red velvet was volatile somewhat; motherfucker had to be a bit bristle-y what with risen up in them Threshie ranks and all, but with him? The notion of the itty bitty Vantas ever going as far as thinkin’ of tearing his own throat was amusing. For one, the clowns never truly died, thus preached the glorious Mirthful Ones above. Then, any bitter vibes regarding some sicknasty murder attempts to one of the cult was bound to attract, well, attention from other cult members.

Laugh bonds were tight, yo.

But, as bitter as his freakbitch was, there wasn’t an ounce of ill intentions underneath the crabby exterior. Moments like these put that display in some place elsewhere, leaving his Karkat softened up to his legit self. There was something endearing ‘bout the careful touching on he did, like the mutant was up and concerned he’d be harming his righteous self. Shit was sweet. Stupid as all fuck, but real sweet. Also, in private times like these, the wee other wasn’t drowning in those pesky layers. Getting a handful of plush ass was nine kinds of difficult when the person in question had enough padded armor and cloak and fabric for the (current, but not for long) Grand Highblood to wear as a bikini. Here, though, it was as simple as dropping his hold downward, curling fingers into one plump cheek and cackling lowly at his most cherished troll’s startle.

“Chill the fuck out, will you?”

He mutters against the clown’s jaw. It took every ounce to not continue chortling at the remark. What with his mouth not entirely occupied, his mind was free to roam in every direction. The weight of his Vantas on his lap, the delicious clash of warm skin meeting substantially colderblooded flesh, and even the trail of marks showing the path of his fleeting kiss were a few things that came first to mind. Surprisingly, though, there wasn’t much in the way of physical markings. Yet. No bruises or bitemarks spattered his person, only the smudges of white make up and a few patches of flushed patches. He might not have sank his teeth into the other, but that wasn’t to say that teeth weren’t used. At some point. Once. Twice. Maybe six or nine times, he wasn’t counting. 

It’s only when a gentle hand rises, tipping up Gamzee’s chin and tearing the other away from his admiring stare, did his focus snap to. Scarlet eyes were wide, but unwavering, as he leveled the Makara’s smug features. His own sour demeanor had dissipated for the time being. Muscles were lax, the sapid frown gone, and the near constant furrow of his brow eased away. There’s another smutch of facepaint along his lips, Gamzee noted with delight. It was a good look for Karkat, all simmered down and every ounce of candy kissin’ surfacing and bits of paint along his body. Baby boy should’a let him paint him up with every hue of rainbow. Everyone of those colors would look fine as hell, despite what his best homie’s whining said. He dips forward, previous hold shifting to instead wrap his arms around the other’s neck. Fingertips returned to his hair, combing through the non-gnarled tips, as his mouth pressed against Gamzee’s. The kiss is chaste, shockingly so. Saccharine voice low, he mumbles, “Flushed for you.”

A nuzzle is given in response, his own set of wicked talons brushing over the Vantas’ grubscars while he murmured, half-lidded gaze centered on Karkat, “‘M as red as the blessed hue coursing through those lovely veins of your’s for you, sugarnook. Ain’t a color on that spectrum that puts proper shade to my bitchin’ affections for my littlest of brethren.”


	3. First Time (KanRuss)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankri and Horuss' first swing at a flushed pailing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A rare pair that I absolutely adore. I'm still very much open for critique, comments, and suggestions for future ships! IF you would like to get in contact with me via Tumblr, my blog is: http://kanny-the-kanned-crab.tumblr.com/ ! ))

“Is this satisfactory?”

“I admire your attempt, but your touch is….Exceptionally delicate. May I remind you that I was not hatched with paper flesh nor afflicted with glass bones? I assure you; I can handle a fair amount of pressure.”

He doesn’t understand. Of course he wouldn’t. As such a disgraceful colored troll on the lowest point of the spectrum, Kankri was not hatched with the mental competency to fathom that his strength, even in the mildest form, could literally crush his matesprit into an unidentifiable pulp. There had been a reason, an exceptionally logical reason, as to why he had created his de-strengthening gloves, which during the fumbled stripping process, had been removed. He was entirely in the nude. Such was uncommon, actually. Much of his hours were spent fully clothed in proper garments as well as inventions that aided his day-to-day activities. In the afterlife, there was little need to shower regularly. At least, in his case. He had devices that limited his perspiration problem. There was nothing that could be done about dismissing it entirely. However, without any attire donned nor any of his welding or sweat-prevention gear in place, the dribbling excreta was at possibly its all time high what with the combination of nerves, frustration at the mental restraints, and the underlying twitch of impatience that gnawed at the core of his thinkpan. He understood the lowblood’s apprehension; being the receiving member in the pailing process came with many pains, naturally, but the experimental caresses excelled in heightening his arousal to an uncomfortable peak.

He had given his consent to acting in a more passive manner. For Kankri. Despite the red creature’s clear disposition to demand such a thing, Horuss knew well that it was potentially the only route in which they could consummate their flushed relationship. Not to mention, though it was sickening to be commanded by a peon of sorts, there was also an underlying thrill taken from his sharp orders. At the moment, the Zahhak was rested on his back, propped up on one elbow so he could spectate his pailmate’s self-administrations. He had tried to assist the small troll with the preparation process, only to be swatted away at once. That was an absurd gesture. He knew the length and girth of his bulge better than Kankri did; if the abnormally hued troll thought he could adequately prep himself without any input or help from his own person, he was seriously becoming deluded. Perhaps those countless hours online had truly driven in some less than desirable philosophies in Vantas’ head. He certainly hoped not. For a troll, Kankri may not have been the brightest. However, for a troll in such a low caste, Horuss considered him quite the intellectual. On Beforus, the only others that would match his level of inferiority would have to be fellow mutants, cripples, or various other disabled lowbloods.

Already their group of mismatched associates could see what deformed, or more specifically, pan-shocked individuals could be like. Captor’s loss of mental capacities was an exceptional disappointment; he could have served the Empire in many, many useful ways were he in a more functional, coherent state. But, it did show the dangers of one so damaged.

“I am not certain in my own bridling abilities to the point where I can mitigate it to where I do not grievously injure you,” he whispered, blank eyes staring down at Kankri’s form. He was perched in the space between Horuss’ own splayed legs, one hand nursing the cobalt tentabulge while the other set of digits carefully occupied his own flushed nook. The exact number of fingers being utilized was lost from his point of view, though he could see the clear pivotal motions of the other’s actions. He did not appear to be enjoying the act itself. Not yet, at any rate. Horuss, on the other hand, was sufficiently riled up because of Kankri. The STRONG difference between their core temperatures was exceptionally pleasing, in his opinion. Warmth followed the smear of lubriacant fluids, and his touch was no different. A hot palm, slick from his own genetic material, massaged his cold, sensitive flesh.

It was a delightful contrast.

Were he waxing on the romantic side, he’d dare say there was a reason Kankri was so, in the most literal sense, hot. Excusing the blatant reasoning of his mutation and all the negative impacts from it, it was clear that his services would do well to satisfy those of a cooler hue. He was born to be a highblood’s charge. It was as if nature itself was enforcing the caste system. Although it was no longer completely enforced, what with their civilization being destroyed and their group deceased, there was definitely logic behind it. With the pleasure stemming from the sheer varying of temperatures, how could one deny that a lowblood servicing a highblood was not the universe’s thoughts to an immaculate coupling? It was a nice thought, and with Kankri’s focus on the movement on hand and not in replying to his previous statement, he added, breathless, “May I kiss you?”

His matesprit arched a brow at the inquiry but nodded, momentarily withdrawing his grip of the blueblood’s writhing anatomy as well as the touch from his own nook. Horuss shifted forward then, concealing the vague flicker of irritation. He did desire further stimulation than the other’s hand. Lessening the pulsing ache in his bulge was an appreciative gesture, but at this point in time, he’d rather have total, blissful completion than the dragged out state of arousal.

Kankri met Horuss’ lips without hesitance. After sharing several fleeting kisses in public then more intimate and beyond lewd sessions behind closed doors, he’d lost the terrible hovering habit. Comparatively blunt teeth clashed against his own veritable cluster of razors before lips could make softer contact. The err didn’t seem to perturb Kankri, whose tongue tangled with the blueblood’s not a second later. Honestly, the falter there still was better than the initial attempt at rousing an erection out of the Zahhak. Probing at one’s sheath was, for the record, not a very attractive or enjoyable experience. Yet, even with the vast amount of blunders, clumsy touches, and hesitance, the tenderness the other did genuinely display was undeniably charming.

It wasn’t something he’d dare admit aloud, due to the troll in question thoroughly detesting the sentiment, but the little Vantas was adorable. His appearance was just so irrevocably pitiful. His diminutive stature, the large sweater which seemed to only emphasize his tiny frame, his soft hair (be it in its naturally tousled state or its curled one), and the stunted set of horns were all aspects that made his bloodpumper flutter. Past those, there was the physically appealing habits and characteristics. The obvious is the sheer heat the other emitted. Another was the softness in his touch. Horuss wouldn’t be easily hurt, but the gentleness was such a suiting feature of Kankri’s. Another surprising trait would have to be the overbite. There was something so harmless in the overhang of teeth. Truly. He breaks the kiss, muttering airily, “I believe it would behoof you to perhaps….Take the reigns and ride, if you’re comfortable with is.”

The answering cringe was clearly not responding to his statement, but a reaction to his own bulge curling around the Vantas’ hand—And, it was most likely not a cringe, but him just being startled by the appendage’s pull. Judging by the guiding push to his chest, Kankri seemed onboard with the idea. As gestured to, Horuss fell back once more, half-lidded eyes falling to the mutant’s neglected length. Its presence was fairly surprising, if he was to be honest. His flushed companion’s expression wasn’t one of outright ecstasy. Red tinged the tips of his ears, revealing his fluster, but otherwise looked anxious. Lips were pursed into a thin line, his brow furrowed in deliberation, and there was no sign of ease in the way he moved or held himself. Vantas shifted forward, resting a feverish hand on his hip while the other remained entangled with his bulge. He can feel the heat hovering just above; Kankri’s poised position was painfully enticing, though his look certainly was not. 

“I’m saddled up with an exceptional amount of anticipation already, Kankri. So, if you are attempting to further stimulate my, er, anatomy I can assure there is little need to. Your past proceedings were exemplary, wonderful even. I’m rather giddy to continue, but if you are uncomfortable with continuing this procedure, I will give little in the way of complaint if we were to halt.”

It’d be disappointing and the previous illusion of his partner excelling in the flawless roles a troll so vastly beneath him would be besmirched, but forcefully fulfilling the concupiscent portion of their Quadrant was far more repulsive than the idea of having to wait some time longer. With luck, the compliments would soothe some nerves of his matesprit. Vantas tended to take every surface compliment to his bloodpusher when uttered by him. It was charming, the naivety and passion melding together.

“No, I very much want to continue this. I’m just…Anxious, I suppose. Could you please sit up again? I’m going to use you. As support, I mean.”

Once more, Horuss complied, added as he moved, “Is there an exact placement of my hands you’d desire?”

“Put them on my waist for now and I guess I’ll, ah, get this going then.”

As directed, clammy palms set on the other’s midriff. Kankri’s previous hold on his hip changed, preferring instead to grip his shoulder with one hand while the other held his bulge steady. Taking a deep breath, he lowered himself. It was admirable how his cherished companion managed to keep the moving, prehensile length in place. Though, it was astonishing how the mutant’s core temperature could be so much hotter in comparison to his skin. Whereas Kankri pointedly kept his lips sealed (an odd turn of events considering the identity of the lowblood in question), a guttural groan escaped his throat. This hadn’t been what he’d expecting. Admittedly, he’d caught a scandalous scene or two from Kankri’s romantic-comedy movies as well as spectated the riveting interactions between a midblood and highblood engaging in more extreme aspects of pailing. Sounds from that series of, er, pornographic material had been loud, particularly the cobalt-hued troll as she was mercilessly made to ride a rather large sexual instrument of some sort. The ecstasy expressed between the two had been an alluring image, and the…Self-indulgence that he did while watching at been well worth it.

Even if his lower region was sore the next evening due to the unbridled rhythm he had taken to.

Yet, even those two professional, bewitching, concupiscent extremists didn’t give hint to how breathtaking the moment was. True, the minute wasn’t as enchanting as he would have pictured it. Kankri was still grimacing, there was a disgusting squelch that sounded after every clumsy roll of the mutant’s hips, and the pace was slower than he’d prefer, but the primal pleasure received from the administrations was well worth it all. The heat made up for every ignorant remark unintentionally uttered by his Vantas. The raw angles that ribbed the side of his bulge just right definitely removed any semblance of resentment that the other might’ve stirrup’d–Stirred up while in one of his pettier moods. Honestly, keeping rigid for the sake of Kankri was growing harder, especially with the fluttering of his nook’s walls applying sporadic levels of pressure on the sensitive flesh.

His head dipped down, resting his slick forehead against the mutant’s shoulder. He didn’t mind the movements made while the other worked. The perspiration issue seemed to have reached a whole new tier during the passionate tryst. Trickles of sweat dripped from his brow, down his nose, along his chin, and every which way. Blots of blue flushed into his person, the color pooling darkly in his cheeks. Breaths turned ragged as the other’s motions grew less awkward, punctuated every now and then with a moan. With his temple pressed against Kankri, eyes were shut tight as he revelled in the flurry of the ravishment. He relished each second of bliss; it was nice for the perpetual void that occupied that entirety of his being to be replaced with this fleeting, hot bout of sweat and salaciousness.

And, it ended too soon for his liking.

For Kankri’s liking too.

His abrupt climax caught even him off guard. The bolt of heat that had been building in his body had been neglected, and when his release of genetic material spurted forward, his flushedmate clearly recoiled. It wasn’t a malicious gesture, just one of genuine shock. That was obvious as the torrents of indigo slurry spouted from him, staining the sheets of the platform underneath and dribbling out of Vantas’ nook. The latter was only slight, really. With Kankri near about jumping back at the unexpected feeling, a meager amount of genetic material had actually managed to be stored in his seedflap. Most of it appeared to be in the process of being sponged up by the blankets and plush pallet.

His gaze was momentarily fixed on the mess before he noted a shortcoming of some sort with the gross sight. It was blue. Only blue. The video watched way back had insinuated an orgasm had in unison; he hadn’t thought that one would be able to…Come without the other. Then again, he hadn’t counted the seconds, but he was fairly certain that couple hadn’t let loose so soon. Blinking, he met Kankri’s wide stare, an unexpected surge of shame coursing through him. There was a hint of revulsion in his partner’s features, and though logic indicated that it was indeed at the soggy sheets, a fierce bud of worry suggested otherwise. Overall, he looked almost as shocked as Horuss did, but that wasn’t to say he wasn’t disappointed at the Zahhak’s lack of attendance for the lowblood’s own arousal.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he blurted out, hands retracting in favor of hovering in front of Kankri. He was well prepared to follow through whatever his matesprit commanded. A few exceptions would have to be made, sadly. He couldn’t handle the other’s delicate anatomy without risking hurt, and judging by the wince had as the lowblood shifted, his hold on the other hadn’t been gentle as he’d thought. Yet, his lover took hold of one arm, maneuvering himself away from the excretion, before murmuring, “It’s fine.”

There was a touch of chagrin in his voice, one that betrayed the rather passive expression he’d put on. Immediately, he opens his mouth, perhaps to apologize, to offer him any of his services, to ask what he could do, only to have Kankri shush him. Steadying his breath, he continued, tone losing its previous edge, “I’m serious, Horuss. It’s fine. I’m going to run to the ablution trap and set up a bath. I’d appreciate if you would first handle this mess before joining me. If you absolutely feel as if you cannot leave me, then I suppose it can wait, though I’d rather the bedspread not permanently be stained. Either way, you can stop looking so upset. Rest assured, I am not angry with you by any stretch. Surprised, yes. Angry, no. And, really, we both require an intense hygienic spell after this half-pailing session, so I would prefer to share a bath with you rather than not. Therefore, if you are willing, clean this up. Once this is all handled, do feel free to come in and wash off alongside me.”

“Yes. Of course,” Horuss nodded, watching as Kankri untangled himself from the covers. As he made his way out of their Respiteblock, he turned to attend to the sopping fabric.


	4. "Masturbation" (Actually a Handjob - GamSol)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would have originally been Gamzee jerkin' off on his own, is now a dynamic where Sollux, his concupiscent partner, gives him a hand. Literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Accidentally wrote a handjob rather than masturbation. Whoops. Well, it's GamSol. You can't go wrong with some good ole GamSol. Anyways, comments, critique, and suggestions for future ships are more than welcome! If you like, go ahead and shoot a message over to my blog: http://kanny-the-kanned-crab.tumblr.com/ . Yes. KanCrab will never miss out on an opportunity to shameless promote their crabself. ))

“Sparky brother, if you just goin’ to be ignorin’ li’l ole me, I’m thinking it’d be best to get off myself.” 

“Sure. Go wild with that. Don’t get that on my adapter though, or I swear to fucking God, I’ll orienteer my ass through your malware loaded husktop, pick through the remains of actual functional capacity, and drop a steaming load of my own specialty in your system.” 

“Motherfucker, I’d done wish you’d put a steaming load in my system,” Gamzee grumbled, flopping back onto one of the plushsacks. It wasn’t that he was bored entirely, per say. In fact, he’d spent two hours staring at the cluster of buzzing hivestacks, an hour nursing numerous bee stings, and then twenty minutes trying to lick the honey off his elbow. He’d kept his time slots filled with fuck loads of entertainin’ scenese, but the hope that maybe some concupiscent biz would go down was very much occupying the forefront of his ‘pan. Shit was probably up and taking hold on the full of his thinksponge at this point.

Dazzling little thing had some wicked anatomical pieces, and it wasn’t just his dick.

A’ight, it was just his dick but it sure was a real fresh sort’a dick. A nice dick. A dick he most certainly was geared to fondle, if the other would be allowin’ it. But, nooo. Some nerdy fella had to be putting his eyes on a stupid screen instead of the glory of his own wang, which was very much out and in hand. Man, he didn’t wear underwear for no damn reason at all; well, he did, actually. Bitches should’a treat themselves right, should’a left all them wiggling pride out in the open. Besides, how was that nonsensical what’s-it righteous in its existence? Mother Grub gave them all their own underwear, or rather, protection for the jewels. Bone sheathe wasn’t there for giggles, you know. Anyways, the point was that he had clearly dressed down for his darling yellowblood and it was totally being unappreciated. Seriously, the pants were off in this situation. Ain’t not in a proverbial way, no. His pants were literally off.

Groaning, he bounded up to his feet once more, striding over to the young psionic with renewed enthusiasm. May not get any farther in his expedition of nook, but he might luck out with some assisted jerking off.

“Homie, you ain’t that busy to be helping your most beloved, is you?”

An elbow rested on the tabletop, cradling his head as he peered over at his concupiscent friend. The mess of gnarled tresses were as unkempt as usual, and thus, made a great cover for the screen. Amazing how a large blot of hair could just get down in that convenient way, a right miracle was what that was. With his head tilted at an angle, he had taken to striking a sensual pose. Nothin’ said sexy quite like stooping greatly and putting one’s wriggly on the seductee’s arm.

“Gross!” Sollux snapped, wrenching the limb from Gamzee’s reach. His eyes, so pretty in their different hues, settled on the purple bulge. A brief glance was cast at the screen, a look that the Makara followed as well. What crazy digits was there. So many lines. Pretty sure them odd, scrambling numbers were that binary code whodiddy that the other prattled on about every now and then. Fuckin’ binary, what even was it?

“I’m swearin’ you help your bitchin’est pailbuddy out right here ‘n now, I won’t be botherin’ you so bad no more and then you can figure out what’s with yo’ writs lackin’ the rest of them number series, yeah?”

There was a blatant eye roll at that, followed by an exasperated sigh.

“It’s binary, dumbass. It’s not supposed to have any other numbers than zero and one. Seriously, go sit down and I’ll be over in two minutes.”

Immediately, a groan was drawn from the capricorn. Two minutes was ‘bout as likely as two hours before Mister Lisps got to swiveling himself away from the technology.

“Come on, firecracker, we real tight. You got one hand free. This shindig don’t gotta be all that long. Could just…TAKE two minutes, you feel?”

“If I give you two minutes right now, will you stop trying to piss me off for the next few hours?”

“Anything for you, sparkletits.”

“Honestly, if you manage to drop another stupid nickname from your windchute, I’m calling it all off and you can go rub one out in the hallway.”

At that, the rictus grin dropped into a sullen expression, one that was far too exaggerated to be show any sort of genuine distress. It was hard to show sincere sort of surliness when he was a clown, and to lose the razor-filled smile for even a second felt odd. This wasn’t some unfunny shitfest. Motherfuckin’ shenanigans were going to ensue. Yet, as directed, he returned to the stuffedpod of seating. Legs were casually splayed as he lounged backward. The smugness in his expression was more than apparent, and the smugness nearly doubled as Sollux whirled around in his chair. Personally, he would’ve thought doin’ this would be a load easier without crooking over from his wheeled-seat, but hey. Whatever floated the bi-brother’s particular watervessel. Hunching over, Sollux’s lips pursed in minor vexation. A warm hand wrapped around the thrashing bulge, the pinpricks of his nails momentarily digging into sensitive flesh.

So, he was in that sort of mood.

Sweet.

His grip was tight, deliciously so, as he worked the length. Wouldn’t have been his first jerk off; nah, and it showed. His hand worked over the tentacle, pumping fast. The Makara moaned, hips pivoting upward to meet every movement. His tongue swung from his mouth; it licked over chapped lips before catching between serrated teeth. As his rhythm grew more erratic, he felt the cutting tips pierce the long appendage. The coppery taste coupled with the persistent, firm strokes soon brought him over the edge, causing a steady torrent of purple slurry to spill both on him and the chair below. Lucky this clothsack was purple in color too. There’d have to be no naggin’ from the other about stains.

“Are you going to slip into ecstasy induced coma now and leave me alone?” Sollux snipped, glancing at his hand before reach over and wiping the material on the chair.

“Till next round.” Gamzee winked, falling into a fit of coarse chortles as the Captor rolled his eyes again and turned back to his husktop.


End file.
